


Your Secret is Safe With Me

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dadwald, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Martin knows exactly what he's doing, Movie Night, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Pining, Reconciliation, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Martin finds another way to bring Oswald and Edward together.





	Your Secret is Safe With Me

The parent-teacher conference is an event almost universally dreaded by parents, but not Oswald Cobblepot. He has been looking forward to bragging about being father to the smartest boy in the school for weeks. When it’s finally his turn to talk to Martin’s homeroom teacher, he limps smugly up to her desk. She beams up at him and gestures for him to sit down. 

“I’m very happy you could make it, Mr. Cobblepot,” she says. “I’m sure you’re aware that as a student, Martin’s excellence is unparalleled. He’s doing much better at socialising this year too, his membership of after-school clubs has helped a great deal, as has a happy home life, from what he tells me.”

Oswald plasters on his best humble face. He doesn’t do humble very well. He shrugs in a well-what-can-you-do way and smiles. “I do try my best.”

“He tells me there’s a man that comes over and helps him with his homework and also that this man has become his best friend.” Miss Roberts smiles at him knowingly. “I think it’s wonderful Martin has two supportive fathers in his life.”

Oswald momentarily loses his assured composure. This woman thinks Edward is his… _partner_ and Martin’s _other_ father? His cheeks heat up. He’d had her eating out of the palm of his hand and now he’s struggling to string a sentence together. 

“That’s not...He’s not, it’s not—”

She leans forward, smiling conspiratorially. “It’s all right, Mr. Cobblepot. Your secret is safe with me.”

Oswald wants to kill something. However, he doesn’t see anything to be gained in contradicting her. The situation with Edward is too complex for even him to understand sometimes, let alone anyone else. 

“Thank you,” he grits out.

She leans back, grinning. Why wouldn’t she? It’s not often people get to find out Oswald Cobblepot’s ‘secrets’ and live. 

“You’ll be pleased to know that Martin is on course for entry into the advanced classes next year.”

He’s really not in the mood to discuss this anymore. He forces his best I’m-talking-to-a-moron fake smile onto his face. “Excellent! Well if everything’s good here, I must be going. I’m a busy man.” 

He’d cleared most of his evening for this. It has barely lasted an hour, most of that spent waiting. 

He stands up, and so does Miss Roberts. 

“Oh yes, I’m sure you are! It was a pleasure meeting you again Mr. Cobblepot. We really appreciate your donations to the library.”

So they damn well should. 

“Yes well. Good evening to you.” He shakes her hand and makes his way out, eager to be in the comforting dark and quiet of his limo. 

*

When he arrives back at the Iceberg Lounge, he dismisses Mr. Penn and heads straight over to the study door. He hears Edward’s chatter within, and for a moment indulges himself in the thought of what it might be like to come home and have _both_ of them be glad to see him. His hand hovers over the doorknob, thinking of letting them know he’s back. But the lesson going on inside seems to be productive, so he decides not to interrupt. That, and he doesn’t want to see the smile drain away from Edward’s face when he sees Oswald. 

He contemplates going to his office to start going through his latest requests but finds he simply doesn’t have the stomach for paperwork this evening. He heads over to the bar to find a nice bottle of red and takes it over to one of the alcove seats. He pours himself a generous glass. 

The first sip soothes the chaos of his mind. He thinks back to Miss Roberts’ words, and how she said that Martin had described Edward as his best friend. He’s surprised to find he’s not jealous at that development. Oswald knows what a great man Edward is, and how wonderful and supportive he can be, and he’s sincerely glad that Martin gets to have Edward at his best. Because there really is no one better, and his _son_ should have nothing but the very best.

He sighs; he had been so happy before Miss Roberts’ comments. He wasn’t thinking about Edward for once and was just enjoying doing something that normal fathers do. Why did she have to ruin it? Though, he is glad to have this insight into Martin’s relationship with Edward. He just wishes she hadn’t insinuated that he and Edward were…something else. Oswald counts himself extraordinarily lucky that he has Martin, to want more from his life would be folly. Oswald isn’t the kind of man who gets to have it all, at least in his personal life. And Edward clearly doesn’t think he deserves it. 

He’s nearing the bottom of the glass when Edward and Martin come out of the study. Since all but the bar lights are off, they don’t notice him. So he simply observes.

Edward turns around and Martin smiles up at him. 

“Remember, if you have any problems with any of the topics we’ve discussed tonight, I’m just an email away.”

Martin nods and moves his arms forward like he wants to hug Edward, but Edward puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, effectively holding him back and rendering a hug off limits. Oswald’s heart tightens in sympathy for the boy. _Keep trying Martin,_ Oswald thinks. _You will thaw him eventually._

“You be careful. Watch out for yourself okay?”

Martin nods like Edward tells him this every week. Perhaps he does. Seeing Edward showing genuine concern for his boy like this fills him with happiness, but also a longing that he knows will never be fulfilled. 

Edward turns to go and makes it a couple of steps before stopping with a thoughtful look on his face. Then he turns to look across the room at Oswald, finding him with a startling accuracy that sends shivers down his spine. Edward holds his gaze for a few moments, expression unchanging, before pushing his glasses up his nose and turning to leave. The tic is so very _Ed_ and Oswald shuts his eyes against the wave of nostalgia. He hears the door close and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

He opens his eyes to see Martin heading over to his office, presumably to find him, but Oswald calls him over. Martin perches on the seat next to him. 

“I’m very proud of you, Martin. Miss Roberts says you are on target to get into those advanced classes. She says you are performing well all round this semester.”

Martin looks up at him, smiling shyly at the praise. 

“What would you like as a reward for doing so well? You can have anything you want.”

Martin hurriedly starts writing. 

_Could we have a movie night? Jake at school says his family do it every week_

“I don’t see why we can’t do that. Every week might be a bit tricky, but we can try.”

_Can we invite Edward?_

Oswald wonders when he stopped calling him Mr. Nygma. “Okay, well, when I said anything…”

Martin looks down, disappointed, but nodding, as though he expected that last request to be denied. 

Oswald swallows and tries to act as though the obvious alternative doesn’t bother him. “Martin, if you want, you could have a movie night with Edward?”

Martin shakes his head aggressively. 

_I want you to be there. I want to spend more time with you._

Oswald takes a deep breath and drinks the last of his wine. Someone should have warned him that being a parent played havoc with one’s emotions. “Okay, well you can ask him. But you know how it is, he may not want to be in the same room as me for such a long time.”

Martin frowns.

_Why can’t you just be friends again?_

“I’ve told you before, Martin. It’s complicated.” 

_Is him coming over making you too sad?_

Oswald has no idea how to resolve this whole situation short of making Edward like him again, which is as likely to happen as Sofia Falcone coming back from the dead. Scratch that. He never thought that. This is Gotham. That might actually happen. 

“No of course not,” Oswald begins, and it’s not a total lie. Seeing Edward every week makes him feel pain and elation in equal measure. “The important thing is that he likes you. And you should know how great a compliment that is, because he thinks most people are beneath his notice. He doesn’t give just anyone his time. He knows how special you are.”

Martin beams. 

“Do you know how proud your grandmother would be of you? I know she would adore you if she’d gotten to meet you.” He can feel himself tearing up, the way he always does whenever he talks about his mother. 

Martin looks up at him worriedly, patting him on the back sympathetically. This is not how Oswald envisioned this day turning out. He takes a deep breath and tries to shake off his deep melancholy. 

“Let’s go and get washed up for dinner.” 

Martin nods and leads the way.

*

Mr. Penn looks particularly nervous when he enters Oswald’s office the following Monday, and that’s saying something since nervous is his default mode.

“I’m afraid Mr. Cobblepot that we have been unsuccessful in locating Mr. Gallo.” He’s hugging folders to his chest as though he might be able to use them as a shield. 

“ _What?_ How is that possible? The man can’t just _disappear_.”

“According to our sources he was last seen in the Narrows in the vicinity of the club owned by Miss Thompkins, one week ago.”

Oswald purses his lips and thinks, walking slowly around to Mr. Penn’s side of the table. “Would you pay Miss Thompkins a visit for me? Convey an important message?”

“Of course sir.”

“You will tell the ‘Queen of the Narrows’ that if she is able to capture Mr. Gallo she will be handsomely rewarded.”

“Alive or dead, Mr. Cobblepot?”

“Ideally I’d like to kill him myself but if it becomes necessary to kill him in order to capture him then the body will do.”

“I’ll see to it at once. Also Mr. Nygma has arrived for movie night and is waiting by the bar.”

“Thank you Mr. Penn. Before you head out could you send Martin down to the new room? I’ll be out in a moment.”

Mr. Penn leaves, as quiet as a field mouse, and Oswald puts on his jacket, checking his reflection in the glassy surface of his desk. He steels himself; dealing with Edward always takes a lot of energy out of him. He is still shocked and (somewhat) dismayed that Edward accepted Martin's invitation, knowing that Oswald would be present. Inhaling deeply, he picks up his cane and limps out into the main room of the club. 

Edward is perched on one of the bar stools, his legs crossed, one elbow leaning on the bar. He looks unbearably and effortlessly elegant, and the way one of his legs is jutting out reminds him of that night he’d helped himself to the profits in the safe and lounged in his office chair, fanning himself with the money. He finds himself smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Riddler,” he says by way of greeting, without thinking. 

Edward turns to look at him and his lip twitches. “Penguin.”

“If you’ll follow me, I’ve had a room converted in the basement and a projector installed. Martin will be along shortly.” Oswald hopes Martin's done with ideas for the time being, he's running out of rooms to convert.

Edward wordlessly follows Oswald downstairs. Oswald leads him into the new designated movie room which still smells vaguely of paint and sawdust. It’s unusually plain for one of Oswald’s rooms, but he didn’t want anything to distract from the movie. The room is essentially a blank white wall for the movies to be projected onto, a table for snacks and drinks, and an enormous sofa, allowing plenty of space between Edward and himself. The projector is built into the opposite wall, with the video player on a small table beneath it. 

“Please,” he says to Edward, motioning to the sofa. 

Edward looks a little like a nervous doe, very wary about this unprecedented situation. But he does eventually make his way around to the far end of the sofa, perching on the very edge of it uncertainly, his entire posture rigid as a board. He takes his hat off and places it on the arm of the chair, but otherwise doesn't move.

Oswald sits at the opposite end, nearer the stairs. He leans back into the immensely comfortable cushions, sighing as all his aching muscles relax. As he inhales deeply, he gets a distinct whiff of eucalyptus, indicating that Edward has used the bubble bath quite recently. Oswald smiles. That smell has very pleasant associations for him.

“You chose it, didn’t you?”

Oswald looks at Ed across the huge gaping chasm of space between them. “Hm?”

“The bubble bath.”

“No, it was Martin’s idea. I merely advised him on colour and scent.”

Edward frowns contemplatively, so Oswald elaborates. “When you used to join me for breakfast at the mansion you would be fresh out of the shower. And you always smelled like eucalyptus.” Oswald smiles tentatively at Edward; whose expression remains unchanged. “I always liked that smell,” he adds. 

Edward looks at Oswald like he’s sprouted a second head. “You…noticed things like that?”

“Of course.” Oswald responds, like it’s obvious.

Silence. Edward continues to fix him with his unnerving stare. Starting to feel uncomfortable, Oswald decides to break the tension. He doesn’t want this night to turn sour before the movie even begins. Where _is_ Martin?

“There are some drinks in the fridge below the table,” Oswald says, attempting to smile encouragingly. “Please help yourself.”

Edward doesn’t move. This is painful. 

Thankfully, Martin appears at that moment, his arms full with three bags of popcorn. He puts them on the table and takes one each to Edward and Oswald and leaves his own in the middle of the sofa. He then goes to fiddle with the video player and get the movie started. Oswald glances at Edward and sees him looking curiously at his bag of popcorn. He supposes it’s because the bag is bigger than his head.

“I hope you like popcorn,” Oswald mutters quietly.

“I’ve never had it before.” He brings a piece of it to his nose and sniffs at it, and suddenly Oswald can imagine Edward the forensic scientist analysing things through a microscope or poking at strange items with interest. Oswald wonders what it would have been like to know _that_ Edward, the one Oswald had regretfully called a nervous, jittery loser. If Edward’s behaviour during their time living together at the mansion was anything to go by, he was an extraordinarily sweet man. Just much more nervous and unsure of himself, having not killed anyone yet. What would it have been like had Oswald not rebuffed his attempts at communication? Could Oswald have led him into the dark _with_ him? Would things have still turned out the same anyway? Oswald sighs quietly; this conjecture is ultimately pointless. Other paths may not have led him to Martin, and he would not change that event for the world. 

Edward pops the piece of popcorn into his mouth and his face is a visual journey. “I like it,” he declares. “I’m glad it’s sweet rather than salty. That’s my preference.”

Oswald has an extremely difficult time biting back a retort. Some things just beg for a sarcastic response, but Oswald manages to rein himself in. 

Martin comes back and sits in the middle of the large space between them, remote control in hand. The movie begins and it doesn’t take Oswald long to recognise the opening title of _The Goonies_. Martin writes a note for Edward and if he squints, Oswald can just about read it.

_I chose this movie for you because they hunt for treasure_

Oswald fails to hold back a snort. It's made all the more amusing by the fact that Martin doesn't know Edward made off with thousands of dollars from his own father's safe. Edward looks at Oswald over the top of Martin’s head, his lips twitching again.

Little by little, as the movie progresses, Edward begins to relax. His rigid stance on the sofa lessens and he gradually leans back. Martin edges a little closer to Edward so he can communicate with him. It’s obvious that the two of them aren’t behaving like they would in the study when they’re alone together, unwatched by Oswald, but some of the notes Martin shows Edward do get some smiles out of him. It’s beautiful to watch, and Oswald could almost get lost in the fantasy that Edward is also Martin’s father. He leans his head back on the sofa, his gaze turned ever so minutely towards the other two. They make an endearing sight, Edward and his miniature side by side eating popcorn, enraptured by the film. This is _so close_ to being everything he wants. Oswald knows that deep under all his defences, the only thing he truly hates about Edward is the fact that Edward hates him. 

A short while later Oswald wakes up, completely unaware he’d drifted off. He looks to the other end of the sofa and his heart constricts at the sight that greets him. Martin has fallen asleep, slumped against Edward’s arm. Gone is Edward’s more relaxed posture, he looks extremely rigid and uncomfortable again, glancing repeatedly down at Martin as if to see if he’s moved yet. Oswald smirks. 

“You know, Ed, he’s ten years old, you can just wake him up and he’ll walk himself upstairs to bed.”

Edward looks aghast. “With a high functioning brain like his, he needs as much uninterrupted sleep as possible. Waking him now would be extremely counter-productive.”

“Are you going to sit there all night then, Edward?”

Edward frowns in response, looking incredibly irate. It’s not the first impasse he and Edward have arrived at. Edward looks down at Martin thoughtfully for a few moments before nodding and affirming to himself that what he’s about to do next is the best solution. He slots his arms underneath him, holding him to his chest and standing up. _Edward is going to carry Martin up to bed._ Oswald tries to school his face into something that doesn’t show how desperately in love he is. He takes a calming breath. 

“Here’s the key to my office,” he says, standing up and fishing it out of his pocket. Oswald can’t believe he’s doing this. “I believe you know where to go from there.”

Edward gives him an almost-smirk and takes the key, nodding. Oswald watches as Edward carefully carries Martin up the stairs and out of the basement. 

Oswald isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. He slumps back down into the chair, willing his heart to slow down. He stares unseeingly at the flickering images of the film that’s still playing; the children have just found the pirate ship. 

He cannot believe he gave Edward the keys to his office, and therefore access to his entire home. He could do _anything_ to it. If Edward has been using Martin as a way to get to him, Oswald quite literally just gave him everything he needed. He could plant bombs, he could start a fire, he could slip a canister of poison gas into the basement room and ensure Oswald died down there where no one would hear him. Oswald might have walked right into his trap.

But Edward couldn’t have predicted Martin falling asleep and Oswald giving him access to his private rooms. Then again, perhaps he was just waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself? 

No, Edward could have done all of this by now. He proved that when he broke in with no problem whatsoever, that night he came to kill him but robbed him instead. He doesn’t need to wait for Oswald to show him any kind of trust. He can take whatever he wants, whenever he wants. That’s the sad and slightly alarming truth. 

He wonders if he’ll ever stop being paranoid about Edward’s intentions. Rationally he knows he and Martin are safe for now, at least from Edward. But second-guessing the man has become an automatic tendency ever since—

“Oswald?” 

He jumps out of his skin when he notices Edward sitting at the other end of the sofa again. He lays a hand across his heart, closes his eyes and tries to regain control of his breathing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Edward says, voice quiet. 

“I was just deep in thought, nothing to be sorry about,” Oswald manages. He thinks he’s finally got his breathing under control so he opens his eyes, only to almost have another heart attack when he realises Edward is now sitting right next to him, holding out his key. 

“Good grief, Ed, are you _trying_ to kill me?” He asks, taking the key, then freezing. 

He realises what he’s said the second the words leave his mouth. The moment hangs by a delicate thread between them as they eye each other incredulously. But it proves to be too much for Edward, whose failed attempt at repressing a smile turns into laughter, full-bodied and rich. Oswald exhales, relieved, and chuckles right along with him as the full absurdity of the situation sinks in. He loves the sound of Edward laughing; he hasn’t heard it in such a long time. At least not because of him, anyway. 

As Edward’s laughter fades, he tentatively picks up the remote control from on the sofa next to him, where Martin had left it. 

“Would you mind if I rewind it and watch the rest of it? I’d like to see how it ends.”

Oswald furrows his brows in confusion. “It’s _The Goonies_ , Ed. You know how it ends.”

“I don’t. I’ve never seen it. I haven't seen many movies, really.”

Edward doesn’t meet his eyes, and there’s clearly a lot more to this. It’s a small glimpse into an unhappy childhood, another piece of the Edward Nygma puzzle. The situation between them now is exceedingly fragile; Edward has shown a hint of vulnerability and Oswald isn’t going to be the one to make him shut off by asking him to explain something that’s probably painful to him.

“Well then of course you can, Ed. You’re very welcome to.”

Edward gives him a small smile before setting about finding where he was in the movie before he left. 

Oswald isn’t sure if Edward wants him to go and leave him to it. He doesn’t _want_ to go. If Edward is uncomfortable with their proximity, then he can just move back to his end of the sofa. 

He doesn’t.

Edward settles back into the sofa, placing the remote beside him and retrieving his popcorn from the table. The innocence of it all is rather charming, and Oswald definitely watches Edward more than he watches the movie. It doesn’t feel real, that Edward is sitting right here beside him, having chosen to do so. After all he did _choose_ to come back downstairs and sit with him. If Edward really wanted to see how it ended, he wouldn’t have had trouble acquiring the video tape and watching it himself. If he really hated Oswald that much, he would have left after taking Martin to bed. 

Oswald smiles as an intense feeling of happiness blooms across his chest.


End file.
